Scavenger Hunt
by Elspeth1
Summary: Being M's errand boy has certain... compensations.
1. Blood

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created by Allan Moore, Kevin O'Neill, Twentieth Century Fox, an a variety of 19th century authors including Oscar Wilde and Bram Stoker. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Posted by: Elspeth (AKA Elspethdixon).

Ships: Implied Dorian/Mina

Warnings: Dorian is one _manipulative_ little sybaritic borderline sociopath.

Scavenger Hunt

Being M's errand boy, Dorian mused, as he closed Mina's door gently behind him, was not entirely without its compensations. The years had wrought quite an interesting change in the former Miss Murray. Quite an interesting change indeed.

It really was a shame that their reunion was destined to be only a temporary one. Given time, Dorian felt that he could easily develop a taste for a few love bites. Of course, given time, a man could develop a taste for almost anything.

Opium, absinthe, hashish… blood… And power, mustn't forget that. Eventually, all vices could become addictions. And addictions—whether to blood, adrenaline, knowledge, pleasure, or violence—were such easy things to manipulate. Offering Quatermain a chance at adventure had him jumping at the bit. Offering Mina a few drops of blood had her lying back and spreading her legs. And what lovely, flexible legs they were.

Dorian reached up to adjust his cravat—there was the tiniest spatter of red on it, but changing it could wait until after his next visit, since it was only going to become further crumpled anyway—and patted the pocket of his waistcoat to make certain that his handkerchief was still there. It wouldn't do to lose the first of M's prizes mere hours after acquiring it.

Now, on to the next item in his little scavenger hunt.

If he played his cards right, invisible skin might be almost as much fun to acquire as vampiric blood.


	2. Skin

Because that little head nod Dorian Grey and Skinner exchange in the corridor of the Nautilus right before they run into Hyde for the first time is _so_ the head nod of meaningless casual sex.  
**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created by Allan Moore, Kivein O'Neill, Twentieth Century Fox, and a variety of 19th century authors including Oscar Wilde and H. G. Wells (sort of. Skinner's a long ways from Hawley Griffin). No money is being made and no offense is intended.  
**Posted By:** Elspethdixon  
**Ships:** Dorian/Skinner, implied Dorian/Mina.  
**Warnings:** Slash.

**Scavenger Hunt**

_Part Two: Skin_

With Mina, Quatermain, and the American boy gone, the Nautilus was, if not empty, certainly somewhat lacking in entertaining company. Mina, of course, was always entertaining, and baiting the American by seducing her right under his cute little snub nose was proving to be rather fun as well, but since both of then were currently scouring the back alleys of Paris for the seventh member of M's little band, Dorian was forced to seek alternative methods of diversion. And if he could manage to get ahold of the next item on M's little wish list at the same time, so much the better, he thought, as he knocked on the door of the cabin down the hall from Mina's with the head of his walking stick. Item one, vampire blood, was all nicely acquired. Now for item number two.

The cabin door opened up under Dorian's knock and he found himself staring into an empty room.

"What, are they back yet?" a voice demanded from somewhere in front of him.

Well, not entirely empty. Appearances could be deceiving where his compatriots were concerned.

"No, the lovely Mina and her two strapping adventurers are not back yet." Dorian leaned one shoulder against the edge of the doorframe and smirked casually at the space ahead of him where Skinner wasn't. It paid to look at whomever you were talking to, whether you could actually see them or not. Skinner, after all, could certainly see him. "I find our little cruise ship quite dull without them, don't you?"

There was a slight rustle of sound, possibly the noise a bare foot would make if someone were shifting it over a piece of carpet. Dorian shifted his gaze a hair to the left.

"It won't be borin' for long once they bring the new bloke back." Skinner's voice, quite gratifyingly, came from the exact bit of empty air Dorian was currently staring through. He sounded just as gratingly cheerful as usual, and it was difficult to tell whether he was annoyed by Dorian's presence, curious about what he was doing there, delighted to have someone to speak to, or any of a dozen other possibilities. Perhaps he was simply enjoying the sound of his own voice, as he often seemed to enjoy talking even when no one else wanted to listen.

It was most tiresomely difficult to read a person who could give you no visual cues. Almost, Dorian imagined, like being blinded would feel.

Fortunately, Basil's painting had made sure that his eyes would never fail him. As long as said painting remained intact and safe.

"Ah yes, the Parisian monkey-man." Dorian raised an eyebrow, affecting a bored expression. "I'm sure he'll be charming. But I'm not here to discuss him."

"What are you here for, then?" Skinner asked, sounding slightly irritated now. There was a rustle of footsteps as he moved away into the room, and Dorian could see slight depressions appear and disappear in the thick pile of the carpet.

"By all means, go and get your coat," Dorian said, taking a gamble that that was what Skinner was doingthe black leather greatcoat was hung over a chair in that general direction. "You must get terribly cold walking around naked all the time."

The footsteps stopped. "Not really. You'd be surprised how quickly you get used to it."

"Ah." Dorian smiled, and straightened from his slouch against the doorframe. "I do so like to be surprised."

"Really?" There was a definite smirk in Skinner's voice, and it wasn't too difficult to imagine unseen eyebrows rising speculatively. "What sort of surprises do you like best?"

Dorian almost had him, going by the suggestion in that comment. Easier than he'd expected, but then, everyone was easy once you baited the trap correctly. "Tell me," he said, instead of answering, "is _everything_ invisible?"

Skinner actually laughed, and then Dorian _knew_ he had him, even before an invisible hand flattened itself against his chest. It was all in the bait. Vampires needed blood, bored-but-sophisticated gentlemen like himself needed variety, and loud-mouthed, cocky men used to being ignored… well, they needed attention. Why else seek it so hard?

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Skinner offered, and it was all Dorian could do not to smile in triumph. One sample of invisible skin, as per M's orders. Instead, he smiled at the thought of exploring all that invisible skin. M would, after all, want the very best sample possible.

"That's not a fair exchange, you know. The view you'd get would be so much better."

Skinner's hand began to slide ever so slowly downward, and Dorian reached up and caught his wrist. His fingers closed around empty air, but he could feel warm skin and the steady beat of a pulse beneath them. He turned the hand over, and ran a fingertip across Skinner's invisible palm. "Of course, there is a certain amount of novelty to invisibility."

"Right. Any particular circus trick you'd like me to perform?"

Dorian shrugged. "Surprise me."


End file.
